


Glimpses into the void

by SubmissiveKylo (prancing_queen)



Series: Glimpses Into The Void [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1366003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prancing_queen/pseuds/SubmissiveKylo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of flash fiction focusing on things seen, and experienced from the differing points of view of Hannibal and Will Graham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glimpses into the void

I can see him.

Hannibal.

 

He's standing just out of reach of the steel bars and it's with considerable surprise that I sit upright to stare across at him.

 

A hand flies to my throat, and it takes a moment to register that it is mine, and not that of some unseen assailant, come to drag me to hell.

 

"I don't understand."

 

The words are rasped out, but the voice they belong to is unmistakably my own. Watching as his lips curve upwards, though whether or not it is a mocking gesture or a sympathetic one, for once, I cannot tell.

 

He stays silent.

 

It's not unusual, but it aggravates me somewhat, and my feet move of their own accord. Dragging me up close to the bars, my fingers curling around the icy metal before white hot agony shoots through my hand and straight up my arm. Forcing me to recoil and nurse my now bleeding hand to my chest.

 

Completely befuddled, I move closer cautiously, inspecting the neat web of tiny vines that wound themselves around the bars.

 

They hardly look real, so I reach out hesitantly with a finger and stroke the green flesh of the plant. It visibly shudders at the touch, winding itself thicker and tighter around the cell that I now call home.

 

Yet even minutes after I've backed away, they are still coiling faster and tighter around the metal, which creaks and groans under the immense weight and pressure being exerted upon it.

 

Whirling around, my breath comes in short, strained gasps as panic nestles itself in my breast, anxiety sending my vision momentarily white as I fight to stay conscious.

 

I catch a glimpse of Dr. Lecter through a small gap in the dense foliage, and I throw myself at his mercy, begging and pleading for his help, to which, his only response is a dark, sibilant chuckle that sends tendrils of icy terror down my spine.

 

The briefest flash of white teeth being the last thing I see as the thicket of thorns finally closes in, leaving me trapped, and very much alone.


End file.
